


the sun rises and sets in you

by lovethybooty



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: District 13, District 4, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Panem, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, kind of happy, kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 times Annie kissed Finnick and 1 time she didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun rises and sets in you

**Author's Note:**

> The notes section is going to be reaaallllyy long, so bear with me!
> 
> First off, I'd like to thank my friend Daniela for helping me with this. I enlisted her help in editing it (she did a fab job, by the way) and also used her for moral support. She really boosted my confidence and just made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside! SO, thanks again, Dani- you rock!!
> 
> Okay, next item on the list: I basically listened to Fleet Foxes the entire time I wrote this. Montezuma is such a beautiful song, so check it out if you have the time.
> 
> The title (and the moment in the story where I use a similar phrase) was influenced by William Inge's play, Picnic. I'm currently in a production, and it's my favorite line (that isn't my own, oops!)
> 
> Uhm, I did try to end on a hopeful note. My first intention was to end super sad, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sure, it's still sad, but in a much more bittersweet way. I just thought that Annie deserved some happiness as a final ending. I write her being sad an awful, awful lot already.
> 
> Now, all that's left on my agenda is to tell you to enjoy! Please leave a comment if you enjoy it, if you have thoughts or questions, or if you just want to say hello! I would appreciate it so, so much!
> 
> Thanks!

**i.**

He's like a bad cold in the summertime. Unexpected, unannounced, unrelenting.

Finnick pops into her life out of nowhere, always at his whim. At first, she'd hid from him. She avoided seeing him, speaking to him. Annie didn't know how to deal with the Games, or Four, or herself, let alone Finnick Odair. But, eventually, she opened up- after about a month or so of radio silence.

And though she'll later swear that his random appearances in her life were annoying and intrusive, she secretly appreciates the slice of normalcy he offers her. With Finnick, things are different. And easier. Unlike Mags and her father, Finnick is young. He's funny, and he just relates to her better.

So, when Annie finally emerges from her room- where she had barred the door and holed herself up for the past two days- it's only natural she finds Finnick waiting. He's slumped against the grey wall, head lulled to one side, chest rising and falling slowly as the morning sun swims across him in small streams.

He is inexplicably peaceful, and Annie wonders how long he’s been there. She considers of waking him, telling him he can go home, but she just can't bring herself to disrupt his rest. So, instead, bare feet shuffle back into her bedroom, returning to the dim hall a moment later, a bundled quilt hanging heavy in her arms.

Annie drapes the blanket over him, parting with a gentle kiss to his forehead. Something Mamá had always done when tucking her into bed at night. And she leaves him there, sleeping outside her bedroom like some sort of watchdog, only to disappear down the staircase and into the kitchen. She has a hankering for some tea. It's been nearly two days, after all.

**ii.**

Annie looks out over the black rock cliffs, past the wharf, and straight to the shimmering water. The flaming sun is preparing to settle in for the night, only to be replaced by the moon and high tide. And Finnick has met her at their secret spot like usual, wrapping a woolen blanket across bare shoulders. He always warns that it's chilly this time of day, she shouldn't let herself catch a cold, but she never listens. Her mind is always elsewhere.

Together they sit in silence, the comfortable kind, watching the waves crest and roll into shore, only to be swept back out to the behemoth of the sea.

In a spur-of-the-moment haze, Annie shifts in her seat on the rocks, sliding closer to Finnick’s side. He looks at her, confused. She's barely said a word the entire time they’ve been out here.

But before he can stop her- or even realize what she's doing- neck cranes her upward and he is blinded by a sea of dark curls. Then her lips are on his.

She pulls away quickly. As if she, too, has only just realized what she’s done. Head shakes, a sad attempt at an apology when the words are caught in her throat.

He's the first to actually speak. 

“I’m sorry, Annie, I- _I have to go_ ,” Finnick stutters, scrambling to push himself to his feet. And just like that, he's gone, racing down the beach and back towards home, leaving Annie to sit alone- completely and utterly shocked.

She cries for the next week, holes herself up in her bedroom once again. She only stops when he meets her once again- this time, with a kiss of his own.

**iii.**

Thin curtains shield whatever light peeks out from behind the jet stream clouds of pink and blue.

She stirs slowly, wakes to the sound of creaking. Delicate hands smooth over the wrinkled sheets beneath her, searching.

_(Where is Finnick?)_

Blankets are gathered around her chest as she sits, pushing herself up on elbows. It’s hard to make out the shapes through the backdrop of night, but she is alone.

**Panic.**

It nearly nearly consumes her, dares to swallow her whole with eyes open wide. Sheets are balled into her fists, clenched tight because there is nothing else to grab onto.

_(Where is Finnick?)_

A sigh of relief as the creaking creeps ever closer, distinguishable footsteps tiptoeing down the hall. She smiles. He’s trying to be quiet.

Eyes lock with the doorknob expectantly, watching as it twists and props open.

And he’s startled to see her sitting up in bed, staring so intently. She can see it in the way he swallows hard, the rough hand that passes through tousled curls. He tries to hide it anyway.

“Everything alright?” The question is soft, delivered as if not to frighten or confuse. He knows her so well.

Bare feet pad back over to the bed where she waits, knees dipping into the mattress, weight shifting under her.

She nods. “Glad you came back.”

His only response is lopsided grin, whatever worry that had overcome him too washing away with the tide. For a moment he looms above her, one hand pressed down firmly beside her pillow to support himself. And she is thrusting herself upwards in a fit of movement. Her hand snakes around the curve of his neck, she catches his lips with a kiss, pulls him back down with her. Back lowers to rest against the soft mattress once more, and suddenly all is right again.

**iv.**

She stands before him, donned in green silk. She looks undeniable beautiful and breathtaking, feels uncertain and uneasy.

Annie once yearned for a District Four wedding- by the water and with her family. But she did not know Finnick when she dreamed of this perfection, and now her family is dead. Upon looking out to the sea of faces that made up District Thirteen, she is reminded of a lesson she learned long ago- beggars cannot be choosers.

This day, this day, _her wedding day_ \- it's not about the gown she wears or who is watching. It's about Finnick. About being granted a special chance, a second chance, about making the stories they had whispered to each other in the dead of night _(stories of a happy life with bronze babies and a quaint forever)_ a reality. Something neither of them had ever deemed possible.

And as she looks up at him, always so tall, watching lips move as he speaks of her, _loving her_ , she knows that there really _is_ a God. That she has finally been forgiven for her sins.

Words are soft and sweet, like a secret melody meant only for her ears. His love is all encompassing and it is clear- Annie Cresta is getting a forever. With _him_.

“One destiny,” he finishes, grinning down at her as though the sun itself rose and set within her eyes. Attention is turned to Dalton, a slight nod of his head to signal he's said all he needs to say. He always has had a way with words.

“You may now kiss the bride."

And she's never been quicker to accept his advances. She rocks onto tiptoes, neck craning to reach his lips, still tasting of the saltwater she had placed there only moments before. They kiss for what seems an eternity before parting, and her gaze, _one that sees only Finnick_ , is not disturbed as she softly returns to stand flat on her feet.

v.

Night fell several hours prior. Her wails and screams had filled the hospital’s corridors, but for once, they brought the promise of hope and not destruction. Finally, however, it is silent.

Annie looks down at the small, squishy bundle in her arms. He's sleeping, or at least she _thinks_ he is, swaddled in an emerald green blanket- one that can only remind her of _his_ eyes.

Johanna left not too long ago, but swore to return in the morning. Said there were a few things she needed to take care of. Annie hadn’t questioned her, knowing she would never have gotten a proper and honest answer.

The dead of night, she recalls, used to frighten her. Especially when she was alone. But here and now, she finds herself at peace. She's not afraid, and, for once, she is truly happy.

She watches her sleeping baby with the knowledge that a new sun will rise and bring a brighter world with it. In fact, Panem has already changed so much in the short months since Finnick’s death, and is continuing to change for the better each day.

For a while, she thought the world might have stopped turning- life as she knew it came to a standstill. But even Annie soon realized that war and earth’s revolutions around the sun stop for nobody and nothing. She was angry, at first, but now the thought brings her peace.

Head bows, lips brushing across her child’s soft, smooth forehead. She will never move on, but perhaps she will move forward.


End file.
